


The Plan

by RiverWriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Children, F/M, Facebook: Harmony & Co., Family, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Parent Harry Potter, Parent Hermione Granger, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Pregnancy, Romance, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 00:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20000782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverWriter/pseuds/RiverWriter
Summary: Five years ago a marriage law was enacted. Harry and Hermione did what they always do: she came up with a Plan and they tackled it together. Now they've fulfilled their obligations under the law and it's almost time for them to divorce and go their separate ways. Harry is far from happy about it, but does he dare tell his wife?





	1. Chapter 1

His life sucked.

Harry shouldn’t have been surprised, he’d been marked by a Merlin be damned prophecy since before his birth. So the fact that things had continued to go wrong after he- despite all the odds- had survived and defeated a dark lord, shouldn’t really have been a shock.

And since Harry had known for years that this particular day would come, he’d tried his best to prepare himself. Because it had been inevitable since that other unforgettable day when his best friend had snuck into his office, put up about a thousand secrecy charms, and outlined her Plan. Which was how Harry had thought of it from then on; it had become a central tenet of his life and it was only appropriate that it be referenced in capital letters.

He really shouldn’t have been mad. Hermione had never been anything but forthright with him, and he’d voluntarily agreed to The Plan. He’d actually been amenable to it in the beginning, relieved for it, even. But he couldn’t seem to help himself now, almost five years later. He stewed as he led his children down the steps outside of his in-laws’ house and towards his car.

“Daddy,” a small voice protested and he turned to see his daughter struggling to keep up with his pace while simultaneously trying to brush her unruly hair out of her face. It was usually plaited or tied back in some shape or form, but her grandmother had been combing it out for her when Harry had arrived to pick them up an hour earlier than usual.

He had been early because he’d been unable to concentrate at work, no matter how hard he tried, given the life changing news his wife had relayed via text message that morning.

Text message.

She was pregnant again. The joy he felt when he’d read the words had dissolved when the reality of the situation sank in: this was the beginning of the end of their marriage. And it had just felt like rubbing salt in the wound that she didn’t seem to think that the news warranted more ceremony than a few words, sent digitally. She couldn’t even be bothered to ring him? He’d nearly thrown the offending device across the room when he’d read the message on the screen.

“Sorry, love,” he apologized to his daughter immediately, coming back to the present and slowing his gait. He looked at his son who was surprisingly toddling along quite well, clutching Harry’s other hand, “okay Sammy?” The little boy just nodded his head but he did not look pleased. Harry understood why; upsetting his sister was a non-starter in his world.

Once they reached the car- which was the mode of transportation they most often used in the muggle world to avoid suspicion, it wouldn’t do for the kids to just be popped to their grandparents without any visible coming and going- he strapped the children into their carseats with little fuss. They were actually remarkably well behaved and compliant kids, especially considering his and Hermione’s rebellious history. Then again, that wasn’t truly Hermione’s nature. She had always been eager to please authority figures and follow the rules...until it got to the point where she didn’t feel like she had any choice but to ignore that inclination for the sake of both of their lives.

Her refusal to just give up or give in no matter how dire the circumstances was also how they’d gotten themselves into their current situation. They hadn’t cheated the law but they’d...skirted it.

_5 Years Earlier:_

_“Harry!” Hermione gasped as she snuck into his office, as if she was doing something wrong by visiting her best friend at work._

_He looked up, startled by the alarm in her voice. “Hermione, hi, what’s up?”_

_She held out a hand to stop him from saying anything else and then pulled out her wand and began to cast. He knew her magic intimately and could feel a variety of privacy wards being erected as well as some locking spells. She was probably the only person on earth he wouldn’t have protested against taking such liberties in his space._

_“I’m sorry, I know that was presumptuous, but I had to make sure,” she stated, as if reading his mind._

_He just nodded. “What’s going on?”_

_“It’s going to pass!” She wailed._

_She swayed on her feet and Harry quickly rounded his desk to catch her._

_“I never meant for my work to do this Harry, never!”_

_He half-carried, half-dragged her to the couch situated against one wall, for once feeling thankful for the office he wasn’t always sure he actually deserved. He was awfully young to be Deputy Head Auror. He got them settled, her legs draped across his lap, with her firmly cemented to his side._

_“Tell me what’s going on,” he said, more order than request. When Hermione was lost in her own head, oftentimes being demanding was the only thing that would draw her out._

_She took a deep breath._

_“You know our population has reached a critically low level?”_

_He nodded._

_“There’s a marriage law in the works.”_

_His heart stuttered in his chest. He hadn’t heard about anything of the sort, but Hermione was an Unspeakable, and as this was exactly the kind of recommendation that would come from the Department of Mysteries, he trusted that she knew what she was talking about. On top of that, he had actually learned a few things from his History of Magic classes, despite the odds, so he knew that such a thing was not unprecedented._

_“I just, I never wanted my work to do this-” she continued, ignorant of his inner musings- “I wanted to prove that it was dangerous to keep intermarrying. I didn’t imagine they would take it so far as to FORCE people to procreate.”_

_“Of course you didn’t,” he soothed, running a hand up and down her arm._

_Harry didn’t think that there was any reason to tell her that he didn’t find it at all hard to believe that they were using her work in such a way. It was just how the Ministry- even this ‘new’ Ministry- operated, it would only hurt her. Because his best friend was a bewildering combination of hopeless optimism and ruthless pragmatism. He could only assume that the former had taken over in this case._

_That pragmatism had made an appearance just a little less than a month later when the marriage law had, indeed, passed the Wizengamot. All single witches and wizards of marriageable age were required to find a magically compatible (confirmed by a government healer) partner within six months, or they would be systematically paired with one. And they were then required to produce three children; each couple replacing themselves as well as adding one person to the population._

_He’d barely arrived back in his office following the vote when Hermione had once again appeared._

_“You’re not seeing anybody, right?” She asked as she shut the door, sealing it with her myriad of secrecy spells._

_“You know that I’m not.” His voice sounded dull to his own ears. In many ways he’d expected it, but he was still somewhat shocked by what had just occurred._

_“I just didn’t want to assume, or step on anybody’s toes.” She wrung her hands, but otherwise appeared normal._

_“What’s going on Hermione?”_

_She took a deep breath and then stepped forward, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk and placing her hands on her knees. She met his eyes. “We both come under the purview of this law which means that we have to marry.”_

_He resisted the urge to snort out loud; they both already knew this. “So I heard.” He really wasn’t in the mood to commiserate over it, he was trying very hard not to think about it for as long as possible._

_“We have to get married and we have to have three children,” she continued._

_Harry watched as the composure she had so far maintained began to slip. She slumped in her chair and removed her hair from its clip, shaking her head back and forth._

_“As I said, I know,” he answered, far more gently this time._

_Her head snapped up and she glared at him. “Aren’t you enraged!” She demanded._

_“I suppose I’m rather used to this kind of treatment from our government.”_

_There was a moment of silence and then she let out a long breath and her posture slumped even further. “Of course you are,” she looked up and met his eyes. “I have something to tell you,” she confessed on a whisper, despite the lack of need to keep her voice low, given her privacy measures._

_Harry felt his heart speed up. “Okay,” he swallowed._

_“I’ve spent the better part of the last week making plans to flee the country.”_

_Harry just stared at her while it felt like the air in his office became very thick and he was seized with panic; his heart went from a gallop to a full out run, his breathing increased, and he actually began to tremble once he processed her words. And then, finally, his body reacted as he wanted it to. He rounded his desk and knelt in front of her, pressing his hands against her thighs to keep her seated. He would physically restrain her if he had to; he didn’t care how selfish it made him, he couldn’t just let her leave. What would he do without her?_

_“That’s promising, at least,” she sniffed as she stroked the hands gripping her legs._

_“What?” He asked, dumbfounded, he’d expected her to rant and rage at his highhandedness, not simply move her hands up to grip his forearms and smile at him sadly._

_“For my Plan.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“The fact that you don’t want to see me leave is promising for my Plan,” she reiterated._

_But that didn’t clarify anything for him. “What Plan?” He asked._

_“The one where we get married.”_

_He sat back on his heels. “I’m sorry?” What was she talking about? He and Hermione weren’t like that, they never had been._

_“There’s nobody else,” she breathed. But then her eyes went wide and she shook her head vigorously. “I’m sorry, that sounded terrible and it’s not what I meant.” He waited patiently and watched her swallow and gather her thoughts- it was something he’d seen many times. “Is there anybody else you’d rather...do this with? Anybody else you want to marry? If so I would never stand in your way.”_

_He opened his mouth but she plowed on._

_“It’s not just that we’re best friends. We’ve lived together before. I know we can work together. And I think...I know it’s not ideal, but I trust you Harry. If we have to have babies,” she bit her lip and looked away, a blush blossomed on her cheeks and then spread all the way down until it disappeared beneath her blouse, “if you think I’m insane I understand, I’ll never bring it up again.”_

_Harry just stared at her as he processed her words._

_In some ways he was appalled by the suggestion. Not, he realized, that he was disgusted by the idea of being with Hermione like that. His best friend was a beautiful and passionate woman, it would be no chore to be intimate with her. The idea was certainly foreign, but not in any way disgusting. But he hated that it wouldn’t be their choice._

_And part of him wanted to rant and rail to his best friend about what was being demanded of them. But the way that she blushed and could no longer look him in the eye betrayed how much courage it must have taken her to come to him with this. He couldn’t place the burden of his own anger on her. At least not at the moment._

_“Hey,” he said softly, raising a hand to her face. “No, you’re not crazy. You just surprised me, that’s all. Give me a little while to think about it, okay?”_

_“Of course,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “Take all the time you need, I didn’t expect an answer right away. I’m just grateful you’re willing to consider it.”_

_She rose from her chair shakily. Harry’s heart lurched at the sight: he’d seen her face Death Eaters with more composure. It had him rising along with her and taking her into his arms. “It will be okay, we always find a way, don’t we?”_

_She nodded her head and sobbed into his shoulder._

As it turned out, he didn’t even need to think about it for twenty-four hours.

His initial reaction to her suggestion had been that it was impossible, because she was his best friend. He couldn’t just go off and marry her, sleep with her, have children with her. His second reaction was to ask himself who would be a better option than his best friend?

A Ministry match-up? A fangirl? Another friend?

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t imagine anybody else he would be willing to dive in with. Anybody else he could live with so intimately. Anybody else he could allow to be the mother of his children.

And, most importantly, he absolutely could not trust anybody else with her.

If he’d had any doubts about his decision the look of relief on her face and the way she’d hugged him so tight when he’d told her his decision, made them evaporate. And that’s when they’d sat on either side of the desk in the study at Potter House and outlined the details of The Plan.

It had seemed so sensible at the time.

As a muggleborn and muggle-raised respectively, they didn’t balk at the idea of divorce like most magicals did. So, they agreed to have the three required children and then separate amicably. They would each be free to pursue other relationships, to find love, but remain best friends who would still be able to co-parent their children in a healthy environment.

It made sense, Hermione had argued. Harry had agreed. He had been relieved that they could be so calm and reasonable about their arrangement, and that she had such an organized mind, even if discussing such things had felt a little awkward.

They both knew they were magically compatible without any St. Mungo’s exam needing to tell them; but it did exactly that. The press had a field day when they announced their engagement. And on the one hand it had been a nightmare. They ended up dodging cameras for weeks. It was as bad as it had been right after the war.

But on the other hand, it had been a different kind of nightmare. So many people who were close to them were thrilled, they even seemed smug over the news that they were getting married...it was as if they’d seen it coming. It was obnoxious on every level. Because it meant that there was nowhere for them to escape the bizarre attention, one way or the other. Hermione found herself baffled and irritated by all the attention and expressed it to Harry regularly.

But, bizarrely, Harry didn’t mind. Actually, he reveled in the fact that she was able to take comfort in him. And when she confessed to him that she couldn’t bear to tell her parents the actual reason for their marriage, he couldn’t bring himself to force her. She’d nearly lost them in the wake of the war and after the actions she’d taken to protect them- they had no trust for the magical world.

So, Harry and Hermione sold it as a normal engagement. The Grangers had been less than surprised by their announcement. Which perhaps should have seemed odd. But Harry supposed that they’d been hearing about him and had known that he and their daughter had been very close for more than a decade.

Hermione’s mum went a little crazy with the wedding planning. And while Harry knew that it wasn’t really Hermione’s thing, he had also understood that she was extremely happy that there was something in her life that she could finally share with her parents world, and so she allowed herself to be dragged into her mother’s enthusiasm. It was all too easy to pretend that it wasn’t a farce.

In fact, the only person who seemed to have any objection to their union (except those who had hoped to snag either himself of Hermione for themselves) had surprisingly been their best friend. Harry had anticipated an uncomfortable discussion with Ron, given his romantic history- however brief- with Hermione. Though in the end he knew he wouldn’t be able to object; Ron was happily married himself.

What he hadn’t expected was the anguish in his best mate’s eyes when they’d gone around to his and Lavender’s house for dinner and explained their decision to marry, wanting to inform them before they released a statement to the press. Lavender had given them an understanding smile and then piled their plates full of pudding in a move which was so reminiscent of Molly Weasley, and from a witch who was nearly her physical opposite, that it was almost comical. But then Ron had made a sad, choked sound that had sucked any air of levity from the room.

_“Ron!” Hermione wailed, glancing at Harry for help; as if he would have any idea how to react._

_“I’m sorry,” Ron answered, running his hands over his face. “I just think that you both deserve better. After everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve done. How can the Ministry do this to you? You should have what I have,” he reached for Lavender who, with an adoring smile, settled on his lap._

_“Ronald,” Hermione answered in that way which meant that she was not to be trifled with, and which always got their attention. She reached for Harry’s hand and clasped it tightly. “It’s Harry, who could possibly be better than that?”_

_Harry’s heart stuttered and then soared. He looked over at her, he knew he was grinning stupidly but he couldn’t help himself. Was there anything in the world better than her approval?_

_“I feel the same way,” he told Ron, but he never took his eyes off of his future wife’s face._

_Ron just blinked at them. Eventually Harry saw Lavender pinch him out of the corner of his eye._

_“Oh, okay then,” Ron answered, sounding rather baffled._

_Harry barely heard him._

_And that had been that._

They were married on a spring day in the small parish church near the Grangers home in order to give Hermione’s parents one thing in her life they could openly celebrate with their friends. They were magically bonded in a totally private ceremony completed by the Minister for Magic himself at Potter House. Hermione had easily agreed to move into his ancestral home for the course of their marriage; she had never been shy about how much she adored the place so Harry didn’t feel guilty about asking her to live there.

And, in hindsight, he realized he should have noticed the signs of his shifting feelings for Hermione. But it wasn’t until their wedding night that Harry realized he was truly in trouble.

Because his best friend- his wife- had arranged things for the required consummation of their marriage like they were sitting some kind of exam, and were going to be graded on the outcome. She had been waiting for him in bed, hips propped up on a pillow, though she was modestly covered by a nighty and a sheet. When he’d balked at the sight she had explained to him that it was apparently an optimal position for conception.

He found himself appalled. He wanted more than some kind of clinical experience. But more than that, he wanted more for her. She deserved to feel desired and cherished, she deserved real pleasure and a man who wanted to give it to her. And suddenly he had known that, despite how they’d come to find themselves in this situation, he wanted to be that man.

_He entered the room from the bathroom, eyed her laid out on the bed and almost immediately shook his head._

_“Why are you laying like that?” He asked._

_She shrugged. “I’ve done the research. If we want to get pregnant quickly, this is the best way.”_

_His entire being revolted at the statement and he responded automatically: “No.”_

_Her eyes shuttered at his apparent rejection and he immediately understood his mistake. He made his way to her, crawling on top of her and taking her face in his hands._

_“I didn’t mean it like that, Hermione, but you’re my best friend. I refuse to treat you like… all that you are is a womb. You’re much more to me than that.” He hesitated. “Is the idea of being intimate with me that disgusting to you?”_

_“No! It’s- you’re very handsome,” she blushed and looked away. “What I mean is that I find you very attractive.”_

_“And you’re very beautiful.” He stroked her cheeks. This timidity in his usually formidable best friend brought him courage- he could be strong for both of them this once._

_“Thanks,” she bit her lip but still wouldn’t look at him._

_He resisted the urge to scoff at her modesty, as he knew that it wasn’t false, she truly had a hard time believing him. If he’d told her she was brilliant she would have beamed with pride. Still, he resisted the urge to sigh, lest she misunderstand._

_Her disbelief in her desirability as a woman was frustrating to him, mostly because he’d always felt so unable to help her overcome it. But he realized that’s exactly what he now had permission to do. And he wanted to, more than anything._

_“Look at me Mione,” he cajoled, shortening her name in the way that only he, and occasionally Ron, had permission to do._

_She finally turned her head back to face him. He swooped down and captured her lips with his. He kissed her slowly, reverently. She sighed and he tentatively snuck his tongue into her mouth. Her hands made their way into his hair, her body became languid beneath him, and their mouths met over and over._

_“Harry,” she murmured with something that sounded like wonder._

_He pulled back and smiled at her. “Let’s not make it about this then,” he tugged the pillow from beneath her hips, “it’ll happen when it happens. For now let’s just feel good together, okay?”_

_She gazed at him for a moment then started to smile. “Yes, thank you Harry.”_

_“Stop thanking me,” he chuckled and he kissed her again- his best friend, his wife._

He’d made love to her that night and his world underwent a seismic shift during the experience: it became abundantly clear that he belonged to her, and it had nothing to do with the fact that they’d been physically intimate.

He could never be certain, but he was sure they’d conceived their first child that night. Cicely had been born almost nine months to the day after their wedding. Once Hermione was out of pain and he had been assured they were both safe, it had been by far and away the best day of his life. He’d felt no guilt in feeling that way because Hermione had assured him she felt the same.

Frustratingly, while Cicely’s birth was a joy to everybody who knew the Potters, it was also used as a political tool. She was heralded as a triumph of the law. It was something that had made Harry feel sick. It also made him want to spirit his precious little family out of the country. But, of course, that would have completely defeated the purpose of what they’d done. It would have ruined The Plan.

Cicely was almost two when Samuel was born. That had also been part of The Plan; they waited for a year after Hermione had given birth to try again which, according to Hermione’s research was optimal for Mum, baby, and new baby. She’d again fallen pregnant almost straight away.

He felt terrible for complaining about that fact, even inside his own head. Because so many of their friends were struggling to even have their first child (Hermione’s work about the dangers of intermarrying had a lot of merit) and Ron and Lavender, especially, were desperate for a baby. Meanwhile he had a healthy child, one on the way, and a wife he adored. However, she was a wife he’d only gotten to make love to as many times as he could probably count on his fingers and toes.

Yet another aspect of The Plan: they only came together physically for the purposes of conception. Because yes, on their wedding night they had agreed that they should enjoy it, if they had to do it, but it wasn’t something they indulged in just for pleasure. They only even slept in the same bed because she’d had some bleeding early on in her pregnancy with Cicely and she’d had to come fetch him to get him to help her make her way to St. Mungo’s.

After that, he’d insisted that he needed to be close by in case they needed him again. And once the baby was born it had just become easier to be in the same place to deal with any issues which might have arisen with the baby in the night. So they’d continued on sharing the master bedroom. He held her if she wanted it, if she needed comfort or a human body pillow, but that was all. They were basically roommates.

He’d spent weeks giving himself pep talks as Sam’s first birthday approached. Once he remembered that Hermione would soon be coming to him about “trying” for the third and final time, lest he lose control like a teenager the moment he was inside of her. Because he missed and wanted her desperately. And nearly two years was a long time to go without sex, especially when the object of your desire shared your home and your bed.

It had taken several months to conceive this time. Something which had been an entirely different kind of torture for Harry. Because he couldn’t afford to get used to loving Hermione like that, not when he knew it was bound to end. And now, end it had.

Because this morning he’d gotten that bloody text.

Now he was faced with the reality which he’d resisted truly considering: living without Hermione, of a cold empty bed, of never expressing his love for her physically ever again, of his children not being at home with him every night. He was heartbroken. And he was angry. It was a maelstrom of emotions which saw him rapidly moving past rational thinking.

Which was never a good thing in the face of Hermione Potter née Granger.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was standing in the kitchen, Sam was in his highchair, and Cicely stood on a stool next to him ‘helping’ him cook dinner, when he heard Hermione enter the house.

“You’re home early!” She called from the mudroom. She must have seen their things hanging up inside.

“Mama!” Sam called.

Harry didn’t have to turn around to know that his son’s face was absolutely lit up with delight at the sound of his mother’s voice. The toddler adored her, not that Harry could blame the kid. He’d never had any doubt that Hermione would be a good mum, given the way she’d cared for him for years, but she’d exceeded all of his expectations. Motherhood had turned her into a softer, gentler version of the woman he’d always known. She was now more at ease with herself and the world. It had been an absolutely gorgeous thing to witness.

“Hi babies,” she called as she entered the kitchen, pausing to give Sam a kiss, and then came over to do the same with Cicely.

“Hi Mummy,” Cicely said. “Look, I’m helping,” she held up her hands and demonstrated the way she was shredding the lettuce for the salad and dumping it in a large bowl. They were going to have a very large, very well shredded salad.

“Well aren’t you a sweet girl. I’m sure Daddy is very appreciative.” She touched Harry’s arm and leaned around him to snag a piece of the tomato he’d just chopped. “What are you making?”

“Chicken parmesan.”

“Harry,” she snorted. “I’m already going to be fat enough in a few months. Are you trying to speed up the process?”

He just grunted and kept his back turned to her, but she was standing close enough that he noticed the way that she froze at that brusque response to her teasing. He felt a momentary pang of regret for upsetting her, but he was too annoyed with her to do anything to try to correct it.

“Is everything okay?” She asked slowly.

“Fine.” He knew she wouldn’t believe him, but also that she wouldn’t press the issue in front of the kids. He could only hope that by the time they had been put to bed he’d have pulled himself together well enough to be able to convince her that there really wasn’t anything wrong.

“Okay,” she responded in a tone he knew was meant to convey that she was merely humoring him. “What can I do?”

He sighed and began to list the things that still needed to be accomplished before they could eat. This was another aspect of The Plan. They shared household tasks equally. It was also another thing he’d been happy to agree to. Given the household he’d been brought up in, he was eager to raise his children up in a more equitable environment.

They moved around the kitchen as a practiced team. She let him take the lead. He was a more accomplished and a better, more intuitive, cook than she was, and she had always accepted that. They fell into an easy rhythm, but instead of relaxing into the domestic task as he usually would have, Harry found himself growing sadder and more annoyed as they worked. All he could do was stew over why it wasn’t obvious to her that they were great together.

He spoke little over dinner. Even Cicely noticed and kept asking him questions, trying to draw him into the conversation, but it didn’t work. He felt badly about it. He just couldn’t seem to shake his funk.

After the meal Hermione encouraged the kids to kiss their father ‘goodnight.’ Then she took them up for bath and bedtime by herself with a sharp look in his direction. Which was how he knew that his bad mood must have really been shining through, as this was usually a task they shared, and he knew that she never would have left him out unless she believed his mood was beginning to upset the children. Once they left he sighed and started to do the dishes by hand, another sure sign that he was irritated.

All said: he was failing miserably at playing things cool.

The kitchen was clean and he was sitting in the living room just staring at the blank screen of the telly when she came padding back down the stairs. He looked up when she entered the room. She was barefoot and she’d removed her blouse but still had on the pencil skirt and camisole she’d worn to work. She had also taken her hair out of its elegant twist, but then piled it back on top of her head in a more haphazard manner, a few tendrils spilling down her neck. He loved her like this, it was so domestic. But tonight that just served to make him angrier than he already felt.

“Alright, Harry James,” she plonked herself down next to him and he could tell that she was annoyed with him. An idea he found rich, considering her own behavior. “What’s going on? You’re obviously in a mood and your response to my text earlier was...terse.”

He could only stare at her. “My response to your text was terse?” He finally echoed in disbelief.

“Yes.”

He actually found himself speechless for a few moments. “You mean the one telling me that you’re pregnant?” He finally found his voice.

“Of course that one.” She had the nerve to roll her eyes.

“Well, hell Hermione. Why could that possibly be?” He snarked.

“I don’t know.” She sat back and bit her lip, there was a long period of uncomfortable silence which he absolutely refused to break. “Are you mad that I’m pregnant?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

He just stared at her refusing to answer that absurd question. Did she know him at all?

“You knew this was probably going to happen soon,” she finally said. “And it’s not like we really had a choice anyway, so I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“No,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “I’m not mad that you’re pregnant, for chrissakes. I know how babies are made, we’ve got two upstairs,” he growled.

He was trying to reign in his temper, but she was not this dense. Why was she making him spell it out? On top of everything else, it was too much.

“I’m mad,” he bit out when she continued to stare blankly at him. “That you decided to inform me by text message!” He leapt to his feet and started to pace, tugging at his hair. “A text is something that you send to ask me to pick up some milk, or remind me about a healer’s appointment, not to tell me that you’re carrying my child.”

“Oh!” He watched the realization set in and she at least had the good grace to look abashed. “I’m sorry, I just thought it was the most expedient way to handle it.”

“Expedient?” He scoffed, stopping in his tracks and turning back to glare at her, wondering who this clueless woman was and what she had done with his brilliant wife. “Expedient! Are you even listening to yourself?”

“Well yes, I had a busy day ahead and I thought you’d probably want to know right away. And like I said, you had to have been expecting this. It was time, according to The Plan. And well, we’ve been trying, and since I got pregnant with both Ceci and Sam so quickly…” she swallowed and looked away, and he thought things might be finally sinking in.

“Hermione,” he sighed, removing his glasses and raking a hand vigorously up and down his face. “I know this arrangement isn’t traditional. I know we both agreed to this Plan, but do you think you could possibly not act like our children are simply items you’re checking off of some list of tasks to accomplish?”

“Harry!” She gasped and actually recoiled from him, throwing herself against the back of the sofa. “Our children are not...how could you say that? You know I love them, they’re the best thing I’ve ever done,” she choked out a little sob.

Harry’s heart sank as he watched her try to fight back tears while she glared at him.  
And he had to admit to himself that what he’d just accused her of had been massively unfair. He still thought he had a right to be upset about her method of communicating life changing news to him, but that final accusation had gone several steps too far.

She adored their kids as much as he did. She was a wonderful mother, and he couldn’t ask for more from her in terms of being a co-parent. As for the rest of it, well, she was only doing what they’d agreed to; she was following The Plan. It wasn’t her fault that his feelings for her had changed, or that he was mourning that their marital agreement was coming to its conclusion.

Hell, she was the one who was pregnant. The one who was, once again, about to sacrifice her body, time, and emotions to bring another human into the world. To bring another one of his children into the world.

He needed to get ahold of himself. He looked away from her, it was too hard to think when he was looking at her. After a few minutes he flopped back down next to her, it seemed better to talk about this while he wasn’t looming over her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, making sure to catch her eyes, “that was unfair. And I honestly didn’t mean that the way it came out. You’re a phenomenal mother and I’ve never questioned your love for our kids.”

She sighed. “And I’m sorry about the text. You know how I sometimes get inside my own head, and I just don’t think. But that’s not an excuse, you absolutely deserved better than that.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hand sneaking across the cushion and then grab one of his and squeeze, he squeezed her back.

“I know, it’s not like you to be malicious.”

She let out a little snort and he swiveled his head in her direction.

“Okay,” he laughed, “it’s absolutely like you to be malicious. But as you love me so much, you’ve never turned that tendency towards me.”

Harry’s breath hitched as his words caught up with him, but she just grinned at him. “You’re a phenomenal father too, by the way. I wouldn’t pick anybody else.”

“Thanks,” his voice was raspy.

“It’s just the truth,” she grinned at him, then sobered. “Are you...are you happy at all about the news?” She asked in a small voice and he glanced at her again to see her peering at him with an uncertain, almost frightened look, her eyes flicking between his face and the general area of her stomach.

Oh gods help him. He picked up their joined hands and kissed her palm. “Ecstatic,” he assured her, and the most beautiful smile blossomed on her face.

“Me too,” she squirmed in her seat. “I didn’t think I wanted three, you know that was one of my biggest issues with the law. But now I’m feeling oddly grateful for the stupid thing. I just can’t imagine…” her free hand hovered before settling against her abdomen.

He released her hand and put his arm around her, pulling her against his chest, too choked up to respond. They were quiet for a long time. He held her close and finally admitted to himself that he could no longer just let her go. Not without a fight.

However, he would later claim temporary insanity, or perhaps sheer desperation for what he did next. Or at least for the way he went about it.

“Have you ever thought about maybe just not getting divorced?” He blurted. He had worked his fingers through her hair and began to massage her scalp; she loved it when he did that. He couldn’t run them through it without getting hopelessly tangled, but this made her practically purr and it was strangely erotic for him.

“What?” Her head was heavy against his chest and he was certain she’d nearly been asleep.

Regardless, he couldn’t stop now. “After the baby’s born, what if we just stayed married?” He felt her breathing pick up and rushed to explain himself. “Yeah, is it so crazy? It would be so much easier on the kids.”

“People with children get divorced every day,” she reeled her head back and responded in a tone of voice he recognized at once: she was reciting a well practiced argument.

“Not in the magical world, it’s basically taboo here,” he argued. “And face it Hermione, because of who we are, our kids are already going to have extra attention focused on them. Plus, everybody our age is tied up in the marriage law. We’re the only couple I know who intend to divorce when they’ve fulfilled their birth quota. So it’s not like there are going to be a lot of people for either of us to move on with after we separate.”

She went rigid in his arms. “So you’re saying that you want to stay married because there’s nobody else?”

“Well that’s pretty much why we got married in the first place, isn’t it?”

“Thanks a lot,” she scoffed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He took a deep breath, this was possibly the most important conversation of his life and he needed to get it right; Merlin why hadn’t he thought this through?

But they’d negotiated the terms of their marriage, why couldn’t they negotiate the continuation of the same marriage? Yes, that was a logical idea. Hermione was nothing if not logical.

He took another deep breath. “We got married because we agreed that we were compatible, that we could live together, and have children together. Because we knew and trusted each other. And we’ve done it. I think we have it pretty good here. I could do this forever, I mean, why not?”

His argument seemed rather lukewarm even to his own ears, but perhaps that was because he knew how much more he _wanted_ to say. Their life really was good. But it was so much more than _logical_.

“But Harry,” she wailed, “that wasn’t, that isn’t The Plan! The Ministry, that’s what they want, to force us to stay married!”

And at that, something within him snapped. He pushed her away from him and leapt up from the sofa again.

“I don’t care about the fucking Plan! In fact, fuck the fucking Plan! And especially fuck the fucking Ministry!”

She just stared at him, open mouthed, for the longest time while he paced. “But we agreed-” she started.

“I know, I remember,” he interrupted, waving his hands frantically. “Merlin knows I remember. But when I agreed to that I didn’t know what it would be like! Our children didn’t have names and faces. I didn’t know that the idea of you with another man would make me feel like my heart was being ripped apart in my chest. I didn’t know that the mere thought of you raising our children with another man would make me feel downright homicidal!” His magic flared and he viciously tamped it down before he accidentally damaged something. Hermione gasped. “I didn’t know that I was going to fall madly in love with you.” He added quietly, unable to look at her.

He turned away from her and went to lean against the small desk situated against one wall where Hermione kept supplies for writing owls. The room was silent except for the sound of his harsh breathing. He stared at the scarred surface of the wood as he tried to bring himself under control.

Hermione was a careful person as a rule. Therefore, she generally had the utmost respect for their things. But she was also the most passionate person he’d ever met, and as a result, every so often she lost hold of her temper in the form of a verbal lashing, hexing, or viciously penned owl. The last of which meant broken quills and a scratched up desk.

How many times had he seen her sitting in this very spot, spitting mad, scrawling down a length of parchment? And how pathetic would it make him if he asked her not to repair the desk- as she did every few months- before she moved out so that he could keep that little remembrance of her presence in his home? Godric help him, he was a goner.

As a trained auror and a man who’d been hunted by dark wizards his entire life, it was a testament to his distress that he didn’t sense her approaching him until she slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his back.

He nearly crumpled at the force of his emotion. Because what would he do without her? There had been so many times she’d comforted him when nobody else would or could. He could only guess how many. Hundreds, thousands? The number was inconsequential, she was essential to him.

His best friend, his rock and his comfort. He’d made promises to her. She’d trusted him and in one selfish moment he’d gone and broken them, violated an agreement they’d clearly reached together. And yet she was still here. Her tears seeped through his shirt and he felt like the worst sort of wizard.

“I’m sorry,” he clasped one of her hands at his waist. “That was unfair to you. I won’t bring it up again, and of course I’ll follow The Plan.” He took a shuddering breath. “I should probably move into a guest room though, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. We can figure out some kind of alarm system so that I know if you and the baby need me in the night. And I’m sorry I scared you just now, I know you felt my magical flare.”

She pulled her hand out of his and dropped her arms completely. He was prepared for her to retreat from him and go upstairs. He wouldn’t have blamed her. He only hoped that things wouldn’t be too awkward in the morning and that he hadn’t ruined their friendship.

Instead, he was shocked when he felt her working her petite body between his and the desk and then perched herself on top of it. He was even more stunned when she trailed her hands up his chest and looped her arms around his neck.

“Harry,” she whispered. He leaned into her without thought, he’d never loved his name so much as when she said it, even when she was scolding or full on yelling at him. Yep, he was such a goner.

Still, it took him awhile to gain the courage to open his eyes, but when he did he gasped out loud at what he saw. There were still tears streaming down her cheeks, but her pupils were blown wide with obvious desire, and she had the most dazzling smile on her face.

“Hermione?” He whispered in return.

She made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh, reached up to brush his hair out of his face and pulled his head down to place a kiss against his scar. And then she began placing kisses all over his face.

“You wonderful, brave wizard, so much braver than me,” she murmured between kisses.

“Hermione?” He asked again.

She pressed her forehead against his. “I’m sorry, I’m doing this all wrong,” she said with an uncharacteristic giggle which made his heart soar. “What I meant to say is that I love you so much.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and forced him away from her so that he could face her fully. “The very last thing I want is a divorce.”

He just stared at her for a moment. She smiled, it was shy at first, but it quickly erupted into a grin, and he felt himself grinning in return and then he was pulling her into a searing, almost violent kiss. He spent long minutes savoring her before he moved away from her lips and began licking and sucking at her neck.

“Fuck the fucking Plan,” he murmured against her skin.

She laughed but clasped his head against her neck. “I’d rather you fuck me, to be honest.”

He reared back in surprise. It was very unlike Hermione to curse- she thought it to be crass- and she had certainly never made such a frank sexual request before.

She giggled (he could get used to hearing that, on her it wasn’t silly, just unencumbered) and walked her fingers up his chest, a look on her face he’d never seen, never even imagined seeing before. She craned her neck to speak directly into his ear. “I’m so wet right now,” she confided.

Harry made an embarrassing whimpering sound.

She chuckled, low and seductive. “Can I tell you a secret?” She continued.

“Always.”

“Your magical flare didn’t scare me, it turned me on.” She nipped at his jaw and he shivered. “I don’t think your magic could ever scare me. It makes me feel safe, and sometimes when it’s right at the surface like that? Love, it is so dead sexy to me.” He was certain his eyes were as wide as the lenses of his glasses, she looped her arms around his neck again and brought him closer. “But you weren’t to know that, I’ve worked hard to hide it.”

“Why?” He practically squeaked, she laughed quietly and he cleared his throat. “I mean why would you hide that. How could I not want you to want me?”

She sighed. “Because wanting you wasn’t part of The Plan, so it seemed wrong.”

“A beautiful woman wanting me,” he scoffed, “well I feel downright violated.” He was stunned that he was able to speak at the moment, much less make a joke.

She shrugged. “The Plan was practically a business arrangement. We agreed that it was okay to enjoy it when we did have sex, but it was still always meant to be towards a specific goal. Recreational sex wasn’t on the table and wanting you kind of felt like betraying your trust. But now…”

“Now I’m happily at your service whenever you want me,” he told her.

She barked out a laugh. “Well that is very good to know.”


	3. Chapter 3

Harry decided right away not to dwell on the time that he and Hermione had lost as a real couple because they hadn’t realized their feelings sooner. After all, he couldn’t take it back, and they couldn’t have created a more beautiful family if they’d tried, so there was no sense in dwelling on it. But he could start to make up for lost time. 

“Well now that we’re coming clean, was there something specifically that you wanted?” He cupped her hips and then ran his hands up her waist until his thumbs were cradling her breasts. 

“Well,” she licked her lips, “yes, actually.”

“Oh please enlighten me, love.” 

“It’s just- you’re always so careful with me, so considerate. When we had sex you’ve always been gentle and put my pleasure first and I’ve always really appreciated that. But the thing is, Harry, that I’m not fragile.”

“Okay…” he said, uncertain where she was going with this.

“You just, you have this side to you that I don’t see often, because you rarely direct it towards me. This demanding, unrelenting, powerful side. It’s part of what makes you such a good leader. People want to follow you because you’re a wonderful man, but they also know not to cross you. And that is just…” she shivered in his arms. He opened his mouth to protest- or something- but she cut him off. “Do you remember the other week when I came to collect you for lunch and you had just found out that Patterson had lost your suspect?”

He nodded.

She bit her lip and actually let out a small groan. “You were so tense, your emotions and your magic were practically bubbling at the surface. I hated that you were upset, but it was also just so sexy to see you like that, in a way that I’m not sure I can quite articulate. I just know that I wanted to drag you into your office and let you take me across your desk, and use me to work out your frustrations.” Her breaths were coming out in small pants and she was squirming as she picked at the buttons of his shirt. “I actually considered it, since we were trying to get pregnant at the time. I thought that might be a good enough excuse, but I chickened out.” 

Harry’s mouth was hanging wide open and he was certain that he’d never been so hard in his life. It wasn’t just the image she painted, which would have been enough, but the fact that his wife, who was the height of professionalism, had even thought of such a thing. “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?”

“Too much?” She asked refusing to look at him, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face until she was looking into his eyes.

Then without looking away from her, he worked his hands under her skirt and began hiking it up. “No, not at all. In fact, I demand that you tell me every single fantasy you’ve ever had about us, and I’m going to make sure they all come true.” She squealed as he pulled her against his erection and he growled as he felt her wet heat even through the layers of fabric still separating them. “Oh, sweet Circe, you weren’t lying.” He moaned, then moved to pull the hem of her camisole from the waist of her skirt but she stopped him, covering his hand with hers.

“Not here, in our bed. The first time should be in our bed.” 

He nodded as his heart reentered the situation and kissed her forehead. He helped her off of the desk while allowing himself a moment of satisfaction over how mussed she already looked. Taking her hand, they walked silently towards their bedroom. They made it to the top of the stairs before Hermione spoke again. 

“And it’s Potter.” 

He turned to look at her. “Pardon?”

“You called me ‘Hermione Granger’ but my surname is ‘Potter’ now, remember?” 

He was fairly certain that she said it innocently. That she just meant to remind them both that they were married, and that they were finally owning it. But it did something to him on a primal level, and for the second time that night he felt as if his emotions snapped. 

His wife.

He yanked her into his arms and then pushed her against the wall, protecting the back of her head from the impact with one hand. “You’re right, Mrs. Potter,” he growled, kissing down her neck and bucking against her.

“Oh wow,” she laughed, cupping the back of his head, mirroring the way he was holding her, “that really does it for you, doesn’t it?”

“Hmmm,” he agreed, suddenly releasing her but taking her hand again and practically dragging her to their bedroom. He fell onto the bed and pulled her on top of him. And then they were a mass of limbs; alternatively laughing and moaning as they each sought to uncover as much of the other’s skin as possible. As soon as it was exposed to her she raked her nails down his chest in a way that probably would have been painful, if she hadn’t been otherwise writhing against him so perfectly. They were well on their way to being completely lost in each other when they were interrupted.

“Mummy?” 

They both froze, immediately recognizing the voice of their daughter. Hermione turned her upper body whilst Harry lifted his head to see Cicely standing in the doorway looking very confused, and more than a little concerned. Hermione looked down at herself, frantically tried to put her clothes to rights, and Harry silently thanked all the gods he could name that the clasp of his watch had gotten caught in her hair, and he’d been too busy trying to disentangle it to actually remove either her skirt or top. 

He was in much worse shape. His shirt mostly unbuttoned, trousers open, he just hoped Cicely didn’t have a view of the tenting in his boxer-briefs which he couldn’t believe hadn’t immediately gone down upon his daughter’s appearance in the room. Apparently, Hermione was thinking the same thing as she shifted between his legs to further shield him from view. His head fell back to the mattress and he hoped their inquisitive little girl would allow Hermione to handle this without him. 

“What is it, Darling?” Hermione asked. 

“I heard a noise,” there was a pause, he almost heard her mind working. “Are you playing a game?” Her question was 90% Hermione inherited curiosity and 10% accusation that she might have been left out of such a thing; he could practically see her tilting her head this way and that, trying to figure out what they were up to. 

He couldn’t help it, he clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. Hermione whacked him on the chest. 

“Kind of, but it’s a grown up game,” she answered in her best ‘Mum’ voice.

“Oh.” Cicely’s disappointment was clear. “What is it?”

To her credit Hermione didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a kissing game, Mummies and Daddies play it in private to show that they love each other.” 

Another pause and Harry just knew that this little interrogation wasn’t over. He began stroking Hermione’s thighs in what he’d meant to be a comforting manner, feeling badly that she’d been left to deal with this mini-crisis on her own. But then, without realizing how far his hands had traveled, he nearly reached their apex. He could feel her heat, and she inhaled sharply. 

“I’ve seen other Mummies and Daddies kiss but not you,” Cicely continued her questioning, unaware of the underlying awkwardness. 

Harry cringed and Hermione reached one hand blindly for him, he immediately removed his from beneath her skirt, took it in both of his, and squeezed; knowing instinctively that they’d just come to the same realization at their daughter’s innocent statement. 

At three, she had already recognized that her parents relationship was somehow different from that of the other adult couples she knew. And that devastated Harry. And if her grip on his hands was any indication, Hermione too. Because it was clear now, no matter what they’d told themselves, if they hadn’t had this talk tonight, if they’d divorced or just remained together in a somewhat platonic relationship, they would not just have been robbing themselves of something beautiful, but their children as well.

Hermione cleared her throat and Harry ran his thumb across the palm of her hand in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “Yes, well um, we do,” she answered their daughter. “Does that bother you?” 

Harry held his breath, afraid that Hermione might have just inadvertently opened up another can of worms.

“No,” Cicely answered, sounding unbothered. “But maybe be quiet next time, some of us are trying to sleep,” her tone was bossy, and entirely certain of herself. 

If Harry had dared raise his head, he was certain he would have seen his daughter’s hands on her hips, and he had to stifle another laugh because he knew that pose so well. He swore that the only things his first born had inherited from him were his eyes and- he dearly hoped- his flying skills. She was already quite good on a training broom. Otherwise, she was a miniature Hermione. Which was something he usually adored about her, though maybe a little less than usual at the moment. 

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Hermione was obviously attempting to sound very serious but he heard the underlying note of amusement in her voice. “We’ll remember next time.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t wake Sammy,” their little girl continued to lecture them. Harry had to grab a pillow and slap it over his face, unable to stop his laughter this time. 

Because he couldn’t laugh out loud. This was not funny. It wasn’t. 

“Right again Darling, now let’s get you back to bed,” Hermione sat up fully as she spoke and he quickly moved the pillow from his face to cover his crotch.

The maneuver was right on time as when he looked up Cicely was making her way over to the bed declaring: “I want a kiss from Daddy.” He sat up as well and she scrambled onto the mattress and threw her arms around his neck, she kissed him and whispered: “I love you Daddy.” 

His eyes fell shut and he held her little body tight, feeling overwhelmed as he always did when it really hit him that this little person was his daughter. He had helped create her and he was responsible for her. And for some reason, she believed that he’d hung the moon.

Before Cicely’s birth, without even knowing it, he had always harbored a certain amount of guilt for what his mother had done in sacrificing herself for him. Now he knew that the love she held for him wouldn’t have allowed for anything less. He was supremely grateful to have been loved like that, humbled even. But he also knew that his parents were at peace, and it was the greatest joy of his life to be able to pass that kind of unconditional love on to his own children. 

He opened his eyes to see Hermione watching them over Cicely’s shoulder, eyes impossibly soft, ‘I love you too,’ she mouthed. 

“I love you, more than the moon and the stars,” he kissed his daughter’s cheek as he met Hermione’s eyes. 

“Night night,” Cicely continued, oblivious to her parents byplay. She gave him another kiss and scrambled back off the bed, taking her mother’s proffered hand, and they made their way out of the bedroom. 

Harry sighed, scrubbed his hands up and down his face, and accepted that he wasn’t going to get to make love to his wife tonight. He couldn’t even be upset. What did he think was going to happen, throwing them against walls when they had two children asleep just down the corridor? He had enough experience as a father to know better than that. 

He finished stripping down to his underwear and then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Knowing Cicely, she’d attempt to cajole her mother into another bedtime story, or a glass of water, or something to stall going back to sleep. And Hermione, feeling foolish for waking her in the first place, would acquiesce. So, it would be a few minutes before his wife returned. Sure enough, when he left the ensuite, the bedroom was still empty, so he settled under the covers to wait for Hermione. 

She didn’t look at him when she walked back into the room, she just turned and shut the door and then took out her wand and cast the privacy charms he had now become so accustomed to. She turned back around, leaning against the door and covered her face with her hands. “Harry!” She practically shrieked, “I can’t believe we didn’t even remember to close the door! We could have scarred her for life!” 

Harry simply shrugged. This night was a miracle to him, the idea of their daughter catching them in an even more compromising position simply couldn’t penetrate his happiness. “We could have just memory charmed her,” he joked. 

Hermione dropped her hands from her face and they slapped against her thighs. She just stared at him, mouth agape. “Harry!” 

He wagged a finger at her, feeling more playful by the second. “You’re lucky you didn’t wake Sammy,” he imitated their daughter with a chuckle. “Your mini-me is just as bossy as you are, you know.” 

She blushed and stared down at her toes. “I’m sorry about that.”

He sat up and beckoned for her, but she was still avoiding looking at him. “I’m not, I love it. I love that you’re her mother and that I can see it in nearly everything she does.” 

Her head shot up and she blinked at him for a few moments before smiling at him so beautifically it made his breath hitch. “Thank you. I feel the same way every time I look into her eyes and see you.” 

Suddenly she pushed away from the door and her entire demeanor changed. She bent her knees and began stalking towards the bed, eyes narrowed, a feral little grin on her lips. She looked like nothing more than an apex predator and, given her brilliance and her magical skill, he had to admit that’s exactly what she was. And just like that, he was hard again, more turned on even than he had been earlier. 

She crawled up onto the bed and then up his body until she was straddling his thighs, the fabric of her skirt appeared stretched to the limits. Ripping the sheets off of him to his hips, she pouted at what she found. “You got undressed without me.”

He palmed her hips. “I apologize. But I was assuming our lovely daughter had ruined the mood.”

She hiked her skirt up to her waist and he didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t staring at her pretty lace knickers. He knew what lay beneath, but he never felt like he’d really gotten the chance to fully enjoy her body, their prior joinings had always been fairly perfunctory. She settled herself and ground against him. 

“Doesn’t feel like the mood is ruined to me,” she countered. 

He reached around to clutch her bum, encouraging her movements. “God you’re beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Can I have you like this?” He wondered. 

She had never been on top and he suddenly desperately, desperately wanted to watch her ride him. He tugged her camisole and the cups of her bra down and nuzzled her breasts. 

“Yes, please,” she breathed. 

He immediately began feeling for the zip on her skirt. When he found it he ripped it down so forcefully it split the seam and the tearing sound startled him. She giggled.

“Sorry. I should- do we need to slow down?” Despite what she’d said she wanted earlier, he’d never been this forceful with her and part of him felt like it was wrong.

“I couldn’t care less about the skirt,” she sat back on his legs and took his face in her hands. “And absolutely not. I love you. Now stop stalling Potter.”

But she didn’t wait for him to take action. In fact, she smirked as she started attempting to pull her skirt, bra, and camisole all up and over her head at once. He was momentarily stunned at the sight, and also at her words. 

He didn’t think she’d ever called him ‘Potter’ the entire time they’d known each other. It was ‘Harry’ for everyday. ‘Harry James Potter’ when she was really steamed off. ‘Mr. Potter,’ ‘Auror Potter,’ or even ‘Lord Potter’ when she was teasing him. And then there was his favorite: ‘Harry James.’ She was the only one who had ever called him that, and he loved it. Despite the fact that she sometimes used it when he was beginning to get under her skin. Because even as a reprimand it was one of those things that was theirs and theirs alone, and that made it precious. 

But simply ‘Potter?’ Never. And he couldn’t explain why it was such a turn on to hear it coming out of her mouth now. He decided to contemplate that later. 

“Is this safe?” He wondered even as he helped her pull her garments over her head. 

“Safe?” She asked. She looked drunk with pleasure, undulating against him.

“Well, you’re pregnant. We’ve never done this when we already knew you were pregnant,” he bit out with a great deal of effort: he wanted nothing more than to have her in this moment, but he wouldn’t put her or their baby at risk. 

“Perfectly safe,” she gasped, she didn’t bother to take off her knickers just pulled them aside and placed him at her entrance, impaling herself with a little groan of satisfaction. “So good,” she reassured him, lightly massaging his shoulders. And when she looked down at him, it was with an expression of pure bliss.

His feelings matched her expression. “Go ahead, love,” he encouraged, cupping her hips. She began to move above him and he ran one hand up and down her spine. He resisted the urge to close his eyes and just enjoy the pleasure she was giving him and watched her move on his for several minutes. The told her the raw truth of what he was thinking while he was looking into her eyes. “I’ve been fantasizing about you like this since our wedding night. Sometimes I actually ache lying beside you, but not able to touch you.” 

“Me too you stupid wizard. Would it kill you to wear a shirt to bed?” The irritation in her statement was belied by the way that her eyes were practically rolling back in her head.

She sped up her movements and he looked down to the place they were joined. “Oh Merlin,” he murmured, and was almost startled by the sound of his own voice. “You are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“Really?” She squeaked, and then, to his astonishment, he felt her release around him, much sooner than he would have thought possible- he could only watch her come undone, his own pleasure forgotten. And when she came down from her beautiful high she smirked at him. “I want to feel you too,” she said, an insistent look in her eyes that he knew all too well. 

Instead of turning them over he just sat up; having Hermione here, in his arms, face to face, chest to chest was exactly what he wanted. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” He asked as he thrust up into her. 

“Yes Harry,” she responded, still seeming almost inebriated as she carded her hands through his hair. “This is soooo good.” 

He kissed her, feasting on her mouth in a way he’d never allowed himself before. Then he moved to her neck, shoulders, the slopes of her breasts, and he almost lost it at the sound she made when he took one of her nipples into his mouth and gently sucked. But he was determined to make her come again. He reached between them. 

“Harry,” she gasped.

By some miracle she reached and fell over the precipice first; but he followed her almost immediately. 

“Gods I love you,” she whispered to him as he came inside of her, their foreheads pressed together. It was all he’d ever wanted. 

After a few minutes of catching their breath and holding each other he helped her off of his lap. 

“Don’t you dare move away from me and put that damn pillow under your hips,” he warned her with a little laugh, though he was completely serious. 

She laughed and curled up against him, throwing a leg over both of his and raking her nails through the sparse hair on his chest. “Well there’s not really any point, considering I’m already pregnant. But if I’d known we were capable of that, then I would have foregone the pillow to begin with and hoped it took me as long as possible to conceive in the first place...and the second place... the third place. We could have had so much more fun.” She sighed, then went silent. And because she was Hermione, he just knew that she was working up to telling him something. “I was holed up in our bathroom crying,” she eventually confessed. 

His immediate reaction was alarm. “Excuse me?” His head shot up.

“Sorry,” she murmured, grasping his head and lowering it to her chest. “When I texted you this morning. I took the kids to Mum and then I came back here to do the pregnancy detection charm. I knew what it would tell me and I knew that it would break my heart. Not because I don’t want this baby, but because I want you and I thought that meant I’d be losing you. So I just sent you a text because it felt absolutely wrong not to tell you immediately, but I knew you’d be able to tell how upset I was if we spoke… but it was cruel to you, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t think.” 

“Shhh,” he soothed, running his fingers down her side. “Obviously there are many other ways I would have liked to have found out, but now that I know why-” he sighed. “Oh, love, I can’t even blame you, I had the exact same worries.”

“I hurt you.” 

He chuckled.

She craned her neck to look down at him and arched an eyebrow. 

“It’s just that I’m realizing now how foolish it was of me to believe that you, with your enormous heart that has loved me so fiercely for more than half of our lives, would just suddenly be done with me because we fulfilled our quota. Even if you had wanted a divorce, I would never have lost you.”

“Never,” she confirmed, inserting one of her legs between his to draw them even closer together. He welcomed her, tightening his arms around her. “But Harry, I’m still sorry if I made you feel like some kind of…”

“Some kind of what?” He prompted when she didn’t continue. 

“Means to an end with my Plan,” she shrugged, “ or like a last resort to follow the law? I don’t know.” 

“Hermione-”

“No,” she interrupted, and then began to speak very rapidly, “you’re my best friend and that will always be the most important thing to me. But I feel like I used that, and I’ve felt badly about it ever since. And in some ways I feel even worse now, because look how much I’ve gotten out of it! But that’s why I was arguing so hard for us to stick to the original Plan, because I didn’t want you to have to give up more than you already had because you’re such a loyal friend.”

“Hermione!” 

“What?” The near shout of her name seemed to snap her out of it. “Sorry,” she apologized immediately.

He shifted just slightly to place a kiss between her breasts, and then one over her heart. “The day you came to me with that crazy Plan was the best day of my life.” He stopped speaking as he processed his own words, realizing they were no longer true. “Or, at least it was the beginning of all of my best days. You called me brave before, but I’ll never be able to repay you for your bravery that day.”

“You’re giving me more credit than I deserve. I went for help from my best friend.” She paused and grinned at him, it was a bright, beautiful thing. “He’s kind of amazing, did you know that?” She asked, cupping his cheek. 

Harry just blinked at her for a moment. “My best friend is pretty amazing too. And she’s given me the most perfect life, the most beautiful children. I can’t even- there’s no way I could repay her.” 

She tilted her chin for a kiss. “There’s nothing to repay, we have those little souls down the hall and this one,” she brought his hand to her- still flat- abdomen. There was no sign of the life he knew was growing within.

He slid down her body and placed a kiss on her belly. “Daddy loves you,” he whispered. 

She smiled down at him and ran her hands through his hair. “Our children are so lucky.”

“I agree, you’re their mum,” he said, placing another kiss above her womb and then climbing up the mattress to take her back into his arms. And then they were quiet for a long time as he traced the curves of her waist and hips and she lay languidly against him, her head tucked under his chin.

He held her close, relishing the simple intimacy of the moment. They’d never really had this before. Hermione had never tried to exclude him from anything to do with either of her pregnancies. She had welcomed him at prenatal appointments, never denied him the opportunity to feel the babies kick or talk to them, and he’d been in the delivery room when they’d both been born. But this kind of intimacy- being able to hold her, much less make love to her, to try and even begin to express his awe and adoration towards her for bringing the life they’d created into the world- had been lacking, and he was very much looking forward to exploring it in the next eight or so months. 

“How long?” She wondered.

It had come seemingly out of nowhere, but he was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. 

“Have I loved you?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” she answered, quiet and hesitant.

“You can ask me anything you want,” he squeezed her. “Because for the record, shy Hermione is just weird.” He was rewarded with a small chuckle. “And to answer your question, I don’t know exactly. It came on gradually while you were pregnant with Cicely I think, or maybe that’s just when I finally accepted it. I knew that I had serious feelings for you as early as our wedding night.” 

“Me too,” she admitted.

“Really?” Even now that he knew how she felt he probably would have guessed that it was a more recent revelation for her, she had such a tendency to overthink things. He pulled back so that he could see her face. 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I missed the sex. While I was pregnant, I mean,” she explained with a roll of her eyes. 

Harry couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “Me too love, me too.”

“Shut up,” she pinched his side lightly. “What I mean is that there was a period during my second trimester when I honestly wanted to tie you down and have my way with you. It forced me to think about things.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s normal, or at least not totally unexpected.” He had read every pregnancy book he could get his hands on at the time, he had been so worried about messing things up, and they had been very clear about what hormones could do to a woman’s libido. 

“No, you’re right, it’s hormonal, I read those books too Harry.” She shot him a knowing look and let out a long breath. “But the thing is that I didn’t just want to have sex. I wanted you. Even just the thought of letting anybody else touch me disgusted me. If it had just been hormones, that wouldn’t have mattered.” 

“Oh.” 

He was a little embarrassed by the fact that he knew his satisfaction to hear that was written all over his face. But she cupped his cheek with one hand, refusing to allow him to turn away and absolutely beamed at him. 

“And then she was born, Harry. Merlin but I’ve never seen anything so beautiful as the two of you together and…” she shrugged. 

He ran the tip of his nose from the crest of her shoulder up her neck to the crevice behind her ear. Kissing the soft, fragrant space beneath her lobe he sighed. “It sounds like we’ve basically been on the same page this whole time. I wish we hadn’t wasted it. Why didn’t we talk about this sooner?” 

“You know why,” she murmured.

“Mmmm, no, you’re the brains of this operation.”

She let out a little huff of a laugh. “I’ll let you play dumb just this once because you’ve put me in such a good mood.”

“I’ll have to remember that technique.” 

“Oh please do. Anyway, it’s because we’re best friends.”

He continued nuzzling her neck, adding his lips and tongue to the equation. “Doesn’t that mean we should be able to talk about anything. I’ve told you some pretty terrible things over the years.” 

He was almost positive he knew where she was going with this, but he actually found Hermione in lecture mode to be incredibly arousing under the right circumstances, and right now he was just dying to hear her explain something to him. 

She didn’t disappoint. “But that’s the point. We’re so important to each other, we didn’t want to risk what we had- what had been so essential to us both since we were kids- by admitting that we felt more than friendship.”

“You’re right,” he sucked on her pulse point and she moaned. “But I still wish we had.”

“Me too,” she admitted, “because sweet Circe I think I’m becoming addicted to you mouth.”

He chuckled from his position between her breasts. 

“But,” she continued on with obvious effort, much to his delight, “there’s no use crying over spilled milk and all that. We have a beautiful life, and now we can fully enjoy it.”

Harry said nothing, just grinned to himself and ducked his head under the sheet. 

“Oh God am I gonna enjoy it,” he heard her mutter before he set himself to the task of rendering her speechless.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry much preferred the text message his wife sent him the next morning to the one he’d gotten the morning before, despite how well that had worked out. This one came through just moments after they’d separated on the lift and while he was still standing in the bullpen of the Auror department dealing with some nonsense clerical issue. He hightailed it to his office when he felt his mobile buzz from inside the pockets of his robes. He was glad he had done so after he read her message.

**H: I swear I can still feel your hands on me and yet I miss you already. Do you think we could go pick up the kids together and go out to dinner to celebrate...everything? I love you. -H**

He was still staring at the last three words that he’d never seen written out for him before, when another came through.

**H: You would have told me if I was walking funny, right? Because everybody is staring at me like they know. But maybe it’s just that I feel so different so I assume that people are looking at me differently. Anyway, we should have been irresponsible and taken the day off. Seriously Harry, what were we thinking? I miss you already and I’m not sure I can go the whole day without you. XOXO**

Take the day off? Well that was a damn good idea. His wife really was brilliant. 1,000 points to Gryffindor. However, she’d almost always needed him to help her carry through on the execution of her greatest ideas and it wouldn’t do to let her down on this day of all days.

He’d warded his office again and was back on the lift before any of his aurors could even formulate a question about where he was going. When he appeared in the doorway of his wife’s office she looked up, momentarily startled before she started to smile.

“Hi.” Her voice was breathy and so like the Hermione he’d only ever encountered in their bedroom that he actually twitched against the instinct to go to her immediately.

“We should go home,” he said leaning against her door jamb and trying to look as nonchalant as possible, given how anxious he was to get her naked and, this time, totally alone. “I’m feeling a little ill and you looked distinctly- out of sorts- at breakfast,” his eyes bored into hers, willing her to understand.

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re right,” she answered, letting out the most badly acted cough he’d ever heard. “I think Sam might have brought a bug back from the playground, we should really be responsible and go home until we’re certain we aren’t contagious.”

“Always responsible, Mrs. Potter.”

She literally shoved several sheaves of parchment into her briefcase without any of her usual care, grabbed it, and then ran around her desk to meet him, eagerly taking his hand.

He twisted her fingers between his and brought her left ring finger to his lips eyeing the engagement and wedding rings he’d placed there, in honor of their shared muggle heritage.

“Would you like new ones?” He asked quietly, and without any real thought after he kissed her knuckles.

“What?” She frowned at him.

“New rings.”

“Why?” She looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Well, these are basically props.”

She took his left hand in her own and eyed the thick platinum band he wore, which was the only thing he never took off. “Is this a prop to you?” She met his eyes, her own were challenging.

“No,” he answered automatically.

The look on her face morphed into an expression which could only be described as triumph. “And I know you well enough to know that you didn’t just stroll into a jeweler and buy the first thing you saw. You chose these for me, didn’t you?”

He nodded. He’d actually agonized over the decision. Ron, whom he’d brought along with him to purchase Hermione’s rings had been highly amused the whole time they’d shopped. And Harry was beginning to understand why that might have been, beyond the fact that he’d not understood anything about the quality of gemstones (Ron had apparently done quite a lot of research before he’d proposed to Lavender.) In fact, Harry now suspected that he’d been rather transparent about his feelings regarding Hermione for a long time, well before he’d understood them himself.

“Then absolutely not, and I actually love what you decided on.” She spun the band around and around his finger. “It’s incredibly possessive of me, but I like that this says that you’re mine.”

“As long as I’m allowed to be possessive too, actually,” he pretended to think about it, “I quite like it.” He kissed her in full view of her entire department then, as they were standing in her doorway. Something which he belatedly realized might make her very angry, but he couldn’t help himself. She just grinned up at him.

“You really do like that, huh?” She asked him.

“Hmmm?” He questioned.

“Me being all possessive? Letting you be possessive in return?”

“I’d like to show you how much I like both,” he practically growled, relishing in this new dynamic between them.

Her lips curved into that feral smile he’d only been introduced to the night before. “Now, this is a really good plan.”

“It was your idea, my wife. I’m just following through,” he said while he tugged her away from her office, glaring at anybody who might dare intercept them and embarrass Hermione or hold them up. And if he hadn’t already been, the fact that Hermione didn’t even seem to notice that they had an audience but had her entire attention concentrated on him, would have had him floating on cloud nine.

They made their way to the nearest floo, plastered to each other’s side. He had an arm across her shoulders and both of hers were around his waist, whispering to each other the entire way. They were like a couple in the throes of a new relationship, or a pair of newlyweds. Which, in a way, was exactly what they were.

“How are we ever going to climb out of this bed again?” She asked him later as she nuzzled his neck.

“Well, I assume that in a few weeks you’re going to hit that period where you feel terrible, hate my guts, and won’t want anything to do with me,” he quipped.

She was silent for a long time.

“I was kidding, love,” he finally said.

“I know that. I was just thinking.”

“Hmm?” He prompted, knowing she wouldn’t need any further encouragement to share her thoughts.

“It’s just that there were times when I really would have liked you to be around when I was pregnant before. Times I just wanted you to hold me or even just keep me company, but didn’t think it was fair to ask. Hormones can really be the worst.” She sighed. “Do you think we could pretend that this is my first pregnancy and if I need something I’ll just ask for it, and if you’re uncertain, you ask me?”

“Of course.” It was the easiest thing he’d ever agreed to.

They spent the day in bed until it was time to go pick up their children from the daycare center Molly Weasley had opened after the marriage law was passed. It was the place where Cicely and Samuel spent three days a week whilst Harry and Hermione were at work and their maternal grandparents- who were only partially retired- were at their practice.

When they arrived Cicely immediately ran up to them and then, uncharacteristically, drug Hermione away. Not that she didn’t love Hermione, but she was usually much more of a Daddy’s girl and therefore tended to seek Harry out first. He shrugged, unoffended given the delight on his wife’s face at the attention from their daughter, and looked around for Sam or Molly.

Molly’s business had grown exponentially since its inception, given the baby boom, but she paid special attention to Ceci and Sam because she considered them as much her own as she did her biological grandchildren. So she was likely to know the location of his son. Plus, he always made it a point to at least greet her when he came to get his kids.

His scanning of the children was interrupted by a familiar voice, though it wasn’t Molly’s.

“Harry, hi! I didn’t expect to see you, I thought it was Hermione’s day to get the kids.” Lavender Weasley walked up to him, guiding his toddler- who seemed to be in the midst of some kind of tantrum- by the hand as she patiently waited for him to walk alongside her, but there was no annoyance on her face. “I spotted you and thought I’d bring Sam over, he and Sophie were on a mat together,” she jerked her chin in the direction of the baby in her arms.

“It is,” he answered Lavender, bending down to pick up his sobbing son. “But we were hoping to collect them and then go out for dinner,” he glanced at Sam, attempting to soothe him by rubbing up and down his back, his practiced eye immediately spotting the probable root of the problem. “I’m not sure that’s going to happen now, from the looks of it this one is cutting a tooth.”

Lavender laughed, “kids change everything, don’t they?” She shifted her daughter in her arms. “I kind of thought you and Hermione were exaggerating before we had our own.”

Hermione had been almost six months along with Sam when Ron and Lavender had announced they were pregnant. They had promptly asked him and Hermione to be godparents, and he’d been almost as happy for his other best friend as he’d been when he’d learned about his own children’s impending arrivals.

He chuckled. “It’s like having your world turned upside down, isn't it?”

“In the best way.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he agreed.

“What’s the best way?” Hermione asked, emerging from a crowd of children and parents; in the time that he and Hermione had been there it had turned to closing time and so the center was nearly overrun with people arriving to retrieve their offspring.

“Having a child turns your world upside down in the best way,” Lavender answered with a smile.

“Right?” Hermione chuckled, glancing back to make sure that Cicely was following her; the little girl was trotting happily just behind her, clutching her little bookbag. Hermione grinned at Harry and then held her arms out towards Lavender for her ten month old goddaughter. “Hello sweet love!” She cooed, brushing their noses together when Lavender immediately handed over her daughter. And then with the infant in her arms she automatically stepped back to Harry’s side. He kissed her temple.

“Oh!” Lavender gasped and they both turned to her in surprise to see her eyeing them, an ecstatic smile on her face.

“What?” They asked in tandem.

Lavender looked down at Cecily. “Ceci, would you do me a favor?”

The little girl was immediately on alert, always anxious to be helpful. She nodded eagerly.

“Go find Gamma Molly and tell her that I need to borrow a cup of sugar. There’s some Honeydukes in it for you for being such a good helper,” Lavender winked.

Cecily nodded. “I’m on the case Aunt Lav,” she chirped with a little salute that was absolutely something she’d learned from George, and then she skipped off without even glancing in either of her parents’ directions.

“A cup of sugar?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Did you just bribe my child with sweets?” Hermione said at the same time.

Lavender ignored their statements entirely and just grinned at them. “Thanks be the gods,” she breathed, “Ron was about to hold an intervention for you two idiots.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione asked, her voice low and challenging, and even Harry felt his hackles begin to rise. It had been a long time since Lavender had truly upset him, but while he would fully admit to being an idiot, Hermione was not, and he did not appreciate the accusation, even if he didn’t think she meant it maliciously.

However, Lavender was unaffected by their poorly disguised irritation. She just continued to grin at them. “We’ve been waiting for you to figure it out.”

Harry shifted Sam in his arms so that he could take Hermione’s free hand. “Figure what out?”

“How much you love each other,” she practically squealed. “I wanted to just tell you, but- at first, at least- Ron insisted that you had to figure it out on your own. Once Hermione was pregnant we thought it would happen at any time, you were both so over the moon, but like, you just never got it...why is that by the way?” The words practically tumbled out of her mouth.

Lavender had grown up a lot. She was a lot of fun to be around these days, but the gossipy teenager she’d once been still sometimes burst through, and it most certainly was in this moment.

Hermione turned to him, looking stricken. “Harry,” she breathed.

He raised a hand to her face, caressing it gently. Lavender let out a sound that was part sigh, part gasp.

“We might have been stupid before,” Harry told her.

Hermione nodded.

“And we’ve agreed to,” he stopped and looked pointedly between the babies in their arms, “eff the effing plan, right?”

That made her smile, and she nodded again.

“That Plan is also the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole life and I’ll never regret any part of it. Okay?” He asked.

She just blinked at him slowly and then her lips curved into a wicked smile. “I do have the best ideas, don’t I?”

Harry laughed.

His life was awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you guys enjoyed this. I'd like to thank Weestarmeggie for her excellent alpha/beta skills and for heaping love on this fic, which is the best kind of encouragement. And to Harmony & Co. for inviting me to participate in this celebration, I had such fun writing this. Of course, thanks to y'all for reading! If you're so inclined I'd love to hear what you thought!


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